


A Perfect Day

by Kattlupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Sirius is a wreck, So you know the usual, Some angst, remus is too hard on himself, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin
Summary: Sirius sets out to make up for the mistakes he’s made and to show Remus he loves him over the course of a day.Set to the tone and lyrics of Perfect Day by Lou Reed.





	A Perfect Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @bigblackdog and @gooseberrybrains for being my beta’s on this. It meant a lot to me that you didn’t tell me to chuck this fic off a building.

  


The last remnants of the setting sun shine warmly over Sirius, basking his recently dried cheeks in a soft glow. Though maybe it’s his companion, Remus who’s making his cheeks flush. Sirius can’t be sure, the lines between them have been blurred for so long. What he can be sure of is that it has been _ just a perfect day. _

They’d set off early from the Potter’s house, his house now, Sirius had tried to remind himself. He lived there now, and was no longer just a guest. James had clapped him on the shoulder when Remus arrived, before he opened the door, slipping an undetectably extended flask into Sirius’s back pocket, “liquid courage,” he whispered into his ear. 

Walking through the park, Sirius takes a heavy gulp of that liquid courage now and silently offers the flask to Remus as he swallows. He needs all the courage he can get, his meager supply already depleted in asking Remus to just join him for the day. 

Things had been so strained between them in the final days of term. Final months really, if Sirius was being honest. He’d spent most of the second half of fifth year deciphering whether or not his ever increasing feelings for Remus were requited. After months of dancing around each other, a poorly choreographed tango of not so carefully thought out hand placements, prolonged eye contact, and eloquently chosen words, Sirius had become sure that Remus must have felt the same way. So sure that he’d found himself on the precipice of finally finding out what it would feel like to hold Remus’s hand, look into his eyes before leaning down to kiss the slightly smaller boy and finally confessing that he loved him. 

Instead, Sirius found Remus being ripped away from him. Ripped away by his own impulsive actions. Ripped away in a moment of poorly thought out words that had led Snape to the Whomping Willow. And all Sirius could do was witness the destruction he had caused. The final days of the year at Hogwarts were excruciating. 

“I love him,” Sirius had pleaded to James. 

“I know, Pads. You just have a funny way of showing it.”

Sirius had returned to Grimmauld Place on June 1st; his head hung low, shoulders slumped and grey eyes no longer bright, but black as night. Black as his blood. He belonged at Grimmauld Place after what he’d done to Remus. Proving finally, as everyone knew he would, that deep down he was as dark as all those who came before him. 

But here, they _ drink sangria in the park _, sharing the flask of James’s overly sweetened concoction. And Sirius hopes it can soften the tension between them. 

When Remus hands him back the flask, Sirius wishes he was taking his hand instead. He wants to wind their fingers together and run his thumb across the scar on the back of Remus’s left hand, the one that is closest to Sirius right now. He can’t though, not yet. He needs to prove himself to Remus. Prove himself worthy of cradling Remus’s perfect hand in his own. So not now, it’s not the right time. I’ll let Remus relax, get accustomed to my company again, Sirius thinks. _ And then later, when it gets dark we’ll go home _, hand in hand. 

Home. How strange the concept of a home is. Like everyone, Sirius was raised to believe that home and family were one in the same. It wasn’t till he left Hogwarts for the summer holidays after first year that he realized how wrong he was. Grimmauld Place no longer felt like home to him. After one term at Hogwarts, he knew his home was no longer with his family. His home was with James and Peter and most of all, with Remus. That much had stayed true for the last five years. 

Sirius ran out of Grimmauld Place on the morning of June 7th, having finally broken free from where he was being held in the cellar. Holed away after being exposed to multiple lashings of the Cruciatus Curse. Multiple beratings in both French and English. Words of hate and vitriol being hurled his way. Fag, queer, shame of our house. All for saying to his parents what he hadn’t been able to say to Remus. 

“I love him,” he had cried. 

“Scum!” Walburga had yelled, her wand pointed at her kneeling son as he watched the flames in the hearth at Number 12 Grimmauld Place burn away the photos and letters he had been holding onto as keepsakes. Sleeping with them at night under his pillow. “Crucio!”

When the curse hit him, all Sirius saw was Remus. In the moments the curse held him, terrified and writhing in pain, all Sirius could think about was coming home to Remus. Assuming Remus would even let him in through the doors of his internal protection. 

Maybe, if they could have _ just a perfect day, _Remus would welcome him with open arms. 

Those thin, yet highly capable arms are tightly wound around Remus’s torso, only loosening in the moments when Remus takes the proffered flask from Sirius. He drinks, hands it back, and winds himself in again, avoiding Sirius’s contrite gaze the whole time, a look equal to his own self loathing contorting the normally soft and friendly features of Remus’s face. Sirius finds a new goal, he’ll never get Remus to forgive him until he can convince Remus to forgive himself. And he’ll never be able to reach him if Remus keeps himself tightly wound in his own arms. 

Sirius silently guides Remus down the east heading path in the park. The perfect destination to get Remus to let down his arms, the London Zoo. And it works. With a bag of peanuts in hand, shared between them like the flask previously was, they _ feed animals in the zoo _. Animals have always had a natural affinity with Remus. Sirius knows how they feel. Even before he could turn into a dog, Sirius couldn’t resist the gravitational pull that lived within Remus. The two, like magnets, both pushing and pulling towards each other, depending on how they were turned. 

With Remus’s arms no longer wound in protection around himself, Sirius thinks maybe it’s possible. He’s getting somewhere, but not as easily as he had hoped. 

“I love him,” Sirius had whispered. 

“Then you have to show him,” Euphemia Potter had wisely advised Sirius after nursing him back to health when he appeared broken at her door. 

And show him, he will. Sirius tosses the empty bag of peanuts into the rubbish bin and reaches into his back pocket for the flask. He offers it to Remus first this time and is rewarded with a shy smile creeping up his warm gold flecked cheeks. The first smile Sirius has seen from Remus, outside of his dreams, in what feels like forever. 

Remus hands back the flask, and again Sirius wants to hold his hand instead. Not yet, he reminds himself, you still have work to do. Sirius drinks from the flask, holding Remus’s gaze and goes back to the task at hand, show Remus he loves him. This day is for Remus after all. Before he can reach out and hold his hand, kiss him, tell him he loves him, Sirius needs to do more. Needs to continue this lazy and silent walk through the park, _ then later, a movie too, and then home. _

The Man Who Fell To Earth is playing at the cinema around the corner from the Potter's house. If they continue this leisurely pace through the park, passing the flask silently between them, with just the sound of their shoes on the pavement to signify that they even existed, they’ll make it just in time for the early show. Sirius knows Remus has been wanting to see the film. He talked about it months ago when Bowie had released Station to Station, obsessively listening to Golden Years and proclaiming their successful animagus transformations as the start of the best year of his life. The best year, until Sirius destroyed everything that was sacred between them. 

Remus smiles again and his eyes light up almost imperceptibly at the sight of the marquee when the boys round the corner. It is such a small change in expression that had Sirius not spent so much of his time studying the intricate emotions that play on Remus’s face, he surely would’ve missed it. But he sees it then, flit so briefly into joy that Sirius’s heart blooms. _ Oh, it’s such a perfect day, _ he thinks at that look. _ I’m glad I spent it with you. _

Emboldened by Remus’s subtle change, Sirius grabs his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and is relieved when it isn’t yanked away from him. His whole body flushes and he feels dizzy. _ Oh such a perfect day, _ he thinks again while closing the distance between them, his knuckles now brushing the outside of Remus’s thigh as they walk. _ You just keep me hangin on, _ he wants to say. _ You just keep me hanging on. _

Sirius reluctantly releases Remus’s hand to buy the tickets to the movie. And with a bucket of popcorn to share in one hand and a drink in the other, Sirius is forced to settle back into reality. The fleeting moment that Remus had allowed Sirius to touch him, hold him so simply in his palm, is over. He settles into his seat, precariously holding the popcorn between them, sullen when the lights go down and he is no longer able to see Remus’s beautiful face. 

“I love him,” Sirius wailed in the dark. 

“Then tell mum and dad that you don’t. It’s the only way you’ll get to see him again,” Regulus had tried to reason from the other side of the cellar door. 

_ Just a perfect day, _Sirius reminds himself taking a deep breath. Sitting in the dark next to Remus is worlds better than sitting in the dark of the cellar nowhere near him. Being here with Remus, even if there is no space for conversation, is what he begged him for. Just a day to prove himself, to show him, to tell him, but words just never seem like they are sufficient. Or maybe Sirius is afraid to speak. 

He is thankful for the silence and space the movie eats up for him. He doesn’t need to nervously fill the time or try to engage. He can just sit and enjoy this piece of moving art, next to what he considered the specimen of living art that is Remus. From his seat, the lights and colors of the movie, flickering delicately across Remus’s perfectly angular face, softening the scars that crossed his nose, his cheeks and even the one that reaches his lip, that Sirius so desperately wants to kiss, his _ problems all left alone, _for this brief moment in time. 

Stepping back out into the world after the movie, letting their eyes adjust to the setting sun as it begins to make its descent from the sky, bathing their corner of London in orange and gold, Sirius is not yet pleased with the results. He needs more time. Sure, Remus has come out of his shell a bit. His arms no longer wrap around his too thin torso, his eyes no longer filled with resignation, his lips no longer set in a hard line, but turned up at the corners with a few millimeters between the top and the bottom. However, as of yet, no real words outside of a greeting and pleasantries have been spoken between them. The day spent mostly in silence, though that silence is steadily getting more comfortable. 

From an outsider's perspective they could simply appear to be _ weekenders on our own, _ casually strolling through London, _ it’s such fun _. Sirius reaches for the flask, but then remembers that it’s empty. Needing something to do with his hands, and having lost the courage to grab Remus’s again, he leads them into a nearby cafe and orders two steaming cups of hot chocolate to go, using his charm to get the woman behind the counter to add a little whiskey to both. Maybe now, with Remus’s favorite drink in hand, real and true words could finally be spoken between them. 

They return to the park and sit side by side on a secluded berm, their thighs almost touching. Remus takes a sip of his hot chocolate, a contented sigh escaping his throat. 

_ “Just a perfect day,” _ Remus says quietly, eyes focused on the setting sun hovering just over the horizon. _ “You made me forget myself,” _ his voice is melancholic and he takes another drink. _ “I thought I was someone else, someone good.” _

Sirius’s heart breaks at Remus’s words. Remus has always been good, the best of them all. He’s spent five years working tirelessly to convince Remus it’s true, and he ruined it. Ruined all in one night. In one moment of uncontrolled anger and hate and ugliness. Sirius turns to face Remus, crossing his legs and placing his cup into the space between them. He grabs ahold of Remus’s free hand with both of his, and Remus briefly turns to look at him with watery eyes. 

_ “It’s such a perfect day,” _ Remus says again as he turns to reface the sun. _ “I’m glad I spent it with you,” _

_ “Such a perfect day. You just keep me hanging on,” _ Sirius confesses as he softly runs a thumb across Remus’s knuckles before lifting them to kiss the back of Remus’s hand. _ “You just keep me hanging on.” _

Sirius lets go of Remus’s hand to quickly swipe the errant tears that are making a quick escape from his eyes. It’s all too much. The culmination of everything that had been left unsaid, every mistake he’s made along the way, all rapidly bombarding Sirius as he takes in the site of Remus solemnly watching the sunset after a day that has largely been perfect, despite all the tension that lives between them. 

Remus turns his attention back to Sirius, fixing him with a gaze that weighs Sirius to the ground below him, slowing down time. He watches as Remus’s hand languidly makes its way to cup Sirius’s cheek, his thumb gently wiping away Sirius’s tears. 

_ “You’re going to reap just what you sow,” _Remus whispers to him. 

Sirius nods his head in understanding. He was going to be his own undoing. 

_ “You’re going to reap just what you sow,” _Remus says again, bringing his other hand to Sirius’s other cheek, using both of his thumbs to dry the undersides of both of Sirius’s eyes. 

Sirius nods again. Taking Remus’s words to heart. It’s too late. He’s done too much damage for anything to ever grow from the wreckage. 

_ “You’re going to reap just what you sow,” _Remus says again, softer this time, leaning in and pressing his lips against Sirius’s. The kiss sweet and slow and full of all the words that have been lost between them. 

When he pulls away, Sirius finally understands the true meaning of Remus’s words. There is still goodness in him. Still a chance for Sirius to redeem himself fully and become the man he wants to be. The man he wants to be for Remus. He repeats Remus’s words in his head, _ you’re going to reap just what you sow. _Sirius closes the gap between them again, placing a reverently soft kiss onto Remus’s lips. 

“I love you,” Sirius says when he pulls away. 

“I know you do,” Remus gently says back to him, looking Sirius directly into his eyes. “And I will never stop loving you.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! For some reason this fic is making me feel really vulnerable so kudos and comment if you’d like. Or find me on tumblr @kattlupin 💛


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